


We Will Meet Again (Right?)

by SherlockianSyndromes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dreams, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes
Summary: Written for the Song Titles comment_fic prompt: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Find You (Monsta X)But if this is our fate, we will meet again...right?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	We Will Meet Again (Right?)

_But if this is our fate, we will meet again...right?_

“Goodbye John.”

“No - don’t -”

Would they ever get this part right?

Sherlock tossed his mobile to the side.

_I already know how this ends._

He stepped off the edge of the St Barts roof, felt the air rush past him violently as the concrete grew closer and closer.

But there was no sudden impact.

Instead, Sherlock woke up in his bed, dingy light leaking in from the window, muffled behind the curtains. He blinked, his vision fuzzy, and then the pain settled in, as it always did after a night of getting high.

He’d had the same dream again. The rooftop one, where he talked to a man on his mobile before jumping to his death. The man’s voice sounded so familiar, but Sherlock could never quite place where he’d heard it before.

Now he heard something buzzing. Sherlock turned away from the light and fumbled for his mobile on the nightstand. He had an unread text message, and squinted at the words until they finally slid into focus.

It was from Mike Stamford. What on earth did he want?

_Still looking for a flatmate? Think I’ve found someone for you._

Sherlock laid flat on his back and held his phone above his face. Yes, he was still looking for a flatmate, because bloody Mycroft wouldn’t pay Sherlock’s rent and leave him be. But did he trust stodgy Mike Stamford to find him someone suitable?

And then he dropped his mobile on his face.

Lovely.

Another text. He grabbed his mobile and sat up. This one was from Molly Hooper, down at Barts. She seemed to be in love with him and he often used this to his advantage, like now, when she’d stowed away a cadaver in the morgue that he could use for an experiment.

He fired off a neutral _thanks, I’ll be right over_ to Molly before going back to the first text from Mike.

_“You could_.”

The man’s voice from the dream. What would make him think of that in this moment?

No matter. He sent Mike a quick reply and climbed out of bed. 

_Bring him around Barts. I’ll be down in the morgue._

He needed to shower if he was about to meet his potential new flatmate. Sherlock stretched, listened to his bones creak and pop, and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.

Later, when he first laid eyes on John Watson, Sherlock felt something click inside of him, like the last piece of a puzzle sliding into place. When John handed Sherlock his mobile, it was as if an electric current passed through him.

This was meant to be.

_Oh wait for me, I’ll find you_   
_Like a miracle, I’ll find you_

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
